


One Who Rises From the Ashes

by pterawaters



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Backstory, Deputy Parrish's Name is Kyle, Gen, Kyle Parrish is as old as dirt, Season/Series 04, Speculation, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:06:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2027877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterawaters/pseuds/pterawaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wakes up breathing smoke and buried in ashes. He can't remember anything, but the smoke tastes like life and the ashes feel like an embrace. An ember falls hot against the skin of his shoulder, but it doesn't burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Who Rises From the Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> My accounting of Kyle Parrish's history, in the wake of the mid-season trailer.

He wakes up breathing smoke and buried in ashes. He can't remember anything, but the smoke tastes like life and the ashes feel like an embrace. An ember falls hot against the skin of his shoulder, but it doesn't burn. He knows he can't stay within the fire forever when the smoke starts to sting his lungs.

He struggles out of the ashes, hauls himself out of what remains of the fire, and stumbles away. It's a barn this time. Lantern might've tipped over into the hay. He wonders if there were any animals inside when it went up in flames. There's only one red wall of the barn standing, the rest in ruins. He wonders if he was the one to start the fire, or if he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

He hears shouts from over the hill, probably from the farm house, and decides he doesn't want to be caught here, in case he has done something horrible. He runs, his bare feet almost silent on the soft earth. The wheat field he runs into is a little harder on his feet, but at the end, he sees another farm house, where someone has left the wash out to dry. He takes the clothes and puts them on before heading for the road. 

He still doesn't have a pair of shoes. A truck slows down and the man inside asks, "Where're ya goin', friend?"

He doesn't know, so he points up the road. "Town. Lookin' for work."

"C'mon." The man waits for him to climb into the truck before driving away. "Name's Lefty Johnson, how 'bout yourself?"

He doesn't remember his name. He's not sure he wants to remember it. He feels brand new, like he could be anyone. Maybe he can be.

"Lee," he says. "Jacob Lee."

Lefty nods. "Nice t'meet you, Mr. Lee. Don't suppose you heard about what happened at the Stilinski place?"

Jacob shakes his head. 

"Barn caught fire last night. Poor Mr. Stilinski got trapped and burned right up with it. His widow's beside herself, what with the two children she's got."

Jacob's heart sinks into his stomach. "They're sure he's dead? He didn't escape somehow?"

Lefty shakes his head. "Mrs. Stilinski's brother saw the whole thing. Says he saw Mr. Stilinski catch fire. Awful business."

"Yeah." Jacob wants to go back. If he has a family, they should know he's still alive. Then he thinks that if he is this Stilinski fellow, Lefty should recognize him. "Could you– I mean, I'm having trouble connecting the name to a face. What did Mr. Stilinski look like, again?"

"Blond hair," Lefty says, scratching an eyebrow with one hand, and steering the truck with the other. "Tall, kinda stocky. Always telling jokes. First name was Peter. Ring'n any bells?"

Jacob looks down at his wiry arms and the dark hair covering them. Mr. Stilinski's death must be a coincidence. He nods his head. "Yeah. I do think I remember him now. Seemed like a nice guy."

"A right shame." 

Jacob gets a job in town cleaning up at the lumber mill. He meets Peter's children and wife and after a few weeks, he remembers them. He remembers his family, but they don't recognize him. Jacob has a face that's not Peter's. Jacob can't be a husband and a father to the Stilinski family. He has to move on. 

Ten years later, Jacob has a different life, but his face is just the same as it was when he woke up in the ashes. He's not growing older. When the call comes, he enlists in the army. His companion, Louis, is furious when he finds out. Still, the night before Jacob leaves for training, Louis kisses him and tells him to, "Show those Nazi bastards what America can do."

Jacob isn't so fond of guns, but he's good at fighting. He's better than he should be, but Jacob has come to terms with the fact that he's not normal. He gets glimpses of his previous lives sometimes, memories that come back to him because of a certain smell or sound. Some of the memories feel older than dirt. Jacob sacrifices himself in a grenade explosion to save the rest of his squad.

~*~

He wakes up as someone pulls rubble away from his face and then swears loudly. He recognizes the language – French – though it feels like he hasn't spoken it in some time. He doesn't remember anything else. He doesn't even know his name. When the medic asks, he shakes his head, still woozy from waking up. "Je ne sais pas."

They call him Jean. He's sent with a group of refugees to Britain, and when the war ends, he moves back to France. He might not have gone, except for Pauline, who smiles at Jean like he's her favorite book, and believe him when he says Pauline values books over everything else. Jean marries Pauline and takes a job as a firefighter in Nice. 

Fifteen years and three kids later, Jean still looks fresh-faced and Pauline is starting to resent him for it. He remembers now why he tries not to get married. He says goodbye to his children and traps himself in the next house fire he's sent to. The smoke tastes like life and the flames like old friends. 

~*~

He wakes up in the hospital, and a woman he thinks he should recognize is shaking her head. She tells the doctor he's not her husband and cries, clutching a young child close as the oldest child wraps his arm around her shoulder. The middle child gives him a sad wave as the family leaves. He returns it and tells the doctor, in English, "I want to go home."

He gets papers from the American Embassy. His name is Anthony. He works for six months in Paris so he can afford the Pan Am flight to New York. Tony lives in New York for a few months, but then he finds work in Pennsylvania. 

Working the coal mine is alright. He doesn't mind being underground. It feels safe. He likes the dust in the air. 

Tony listens to a lot of music. He meets Adam at a music festival. Adam gives Tony a cigarette to smoke. Tony likes how the smoke feels in his lungs. He doesn't notice his "state altering", but the cigarettes make Adam happy and affectionate. Tony falls in love with Adam. 

Adam works at the radio station. Tony takes his breaks on the surface so he can turn on his radio and listen to Adam's voice. 

Tony's friends try to set him up with Betty, Sam's sister. Tony says, "No, thanks," and goes home to Adam. Adam smells like smoke and sunlight. 

Tony doesn't think it's an accident that when the coal seam starts alight, he's the one deepest in the mine. He's only been Tony for six years, and it's not nearly long enough. 

~*~

The man who digs himself out from under the earth doesn't have a name. He feels bitter and avoids people whenever he can. He walks across the country, taking work when he needs to eat. He ends up in Montana, working on a ranch. He dreams about other lives and other names. The people in Montana call him Bill. It's as good a name as any.

Bill grabs the wrong end of a cattle brand and doesn't get burned. He leaves that night, driving miles and miles. When he applies for the job at the trucking company, he tells them his name is Roger. The secretary chuckles to herself and says, "Roger that!"

Roger travels the country for years and years. He takes loads that other drivers don't want because they have families who like to observe holidays. Every five years, he switches the company he works for, so that no one starts to ask questions about why he doesn't age. Roger doesn't quite know the answers to those questions, though his memory is growing long enough this time around that he can hazard a few guesses.

It's New Year's Eve in 1990, almost '91, and Roger pulls into a truck stop in northern Georgia. He's making good time because there's hardly anyone on the road, but as strange as he is, he still has to stop to pee. The truck stop is open and still serving food, according to the sign, but when he walks in, there's no one around.

Roger hears a growling sound from the bathroom, and suddenly it makes sense why the truck stop has been abandoned. Roger thinks he should probably skedaddle as well, but curiosity gets the better of him. He arms himself with the biggest wrench he can find in the auto-shop section of the store and heads for the bathroom. He finds a figure who looks (mostly) like a man, if it weren't for the claws on his hands and the fur on the sides of his face. 

The man's voice sounds inhuman as he says with a growl, "Go away!"

"Right," Roger says, but he doesn't move. He thinks maybe he can help. "Except, I've really got to pee, and I've never been one to like going out in the bushes."

The growl intensifies sharply as the man turns toward Roger. His face is twisted into a grotesque shape, his teeth are long and sharp, and his eyes flash bright yellow. "Go!"

Roger is fascinated. He takes a step closer. "Wow! What are you?"

A clawed hand comes flying toward Roger's face and he ducks it easily. He thinks his body remembers fighting. It remembers a lot more than his brain does sometimes. Roger spins around, his foot catching the man in the ribs and sending him crashing against the sinks. "Sorry! You okay?"

The man curls in on himself and starts shaking. It takes Roger a minute to realize he's laughing. When he looks up, his face looks like a normal, human face, though his eyes still glow yellow. "You're probably the stupidest person I've ever met. Fighting a werewolf on the full moon?"

Roger's mouth falls open. A real, live werewolf? When he realizes the werewolf is still staring at him, Roger shrugs. "I guess age hasn't made me wise."

The werewolf scoffs and turns toward the sinks. He opens one of the taps and splashes water on his face. Still dripping, he says, "You look like you could be in high school."

Roger doesn't know how old he is, exactly. His memories from before waking up in the coal mine are fragmented at best. Still, he's never met someone as strange as himself before. "I'm at least twenty-five years older than I look. Probably much more."

The werewolf wipes the water from his face and turns toward Roger. His eyes no longer glow. "What are you?"

Roger shrugs again. "Don't know. Can't say I ever met a werewolf before."

The werewolf smirks. "Oh, I'm betting you have. You just never knew it." He sticks out his hand. "Name's Dale."

"Roger." He shakes Dale's hand briefly. "You okay now? Not going to go all…" Roger snarls and makes claws with his hands.

Dale laughs, shaking his head. "No, I got it. Full moon just got the best of me. That'll teach me for taking a road trip away from my pack during this time of the month, even if it is New Year's."

Roger chuckles. "Your pack? That's a real thing?"

Dale's eyes flash yellow again and he nods. His face falls. "I think I lost my ride when I…" Sighing, he says, "It's gonna be a long walk back to California!"

Maybe Roger's been alone for too long, because he doesn't stop himself before saying, "I'm headed to Jacksonville, but then I've got a load out to Fresno from there."

Dale's face lights up. "Really?" Roger nods, in spite of the voice at the back of his head telling him to walk away. "Just let me use the facilities, hey?"

Blush spreading across his face, Dale says, "Oh, shit. Right. Sorry. I'll just, uh, wait outside."

Roger watches Dale go. A werewolf. Huh.

~*~

A few years later, Roger changes his mailing address to Beacon County, California, where Dale's family lives. When his five years are up, he doesn't transfer to a new company. He gets a job logging in the forests of Northern California. It gets him back to Dale most nights. Dale's family is big, and most of them are werewolves. 

Dale's aunt, Paula, takes one look at Roger and says, "Well, this is a change of pace."

"Do you know what I am?" Roger asks, desperate for answers after all this time telling himself that there are no answers.

Paula shakes her head. "We can look into it. Perhaps we'll ask Dr. Deaton."

A few weeks later, Roger goes to a veterinarian's office and lets an older woman prod at him. She holds a lighter out, striking a flame. "Put your finger in."

Smirking, Roger does as he's asked. He puts his whole hand over the flame, and smiles at the doctor. The flame feels welcoming. "It's a great party trick."

Dr. Deaton lets the flame die. "Aside from performing an experiment I'm not willing to do, I can't be sure."

Beside Roger, Dale asks, "But you have an idea?"

She nods. "Phoenix. One who rises from the ashes."

Roger nods. It confirms the thought he's had in the back of his head for some time. "Thanks, doc."

"Don't mention it." She smiles, but places a hand on his arm. "Seriously, don't. You have no idea how much Phoenix tears sell for on the supernatural market."

"Tears?" Roger shakes his head, but takes the doctor's advice to heart. He swears Dale to secrecy and tells the pack that Dr. Deaton thinks he's just slow to age.

He looks exactly the same seven years later when he goes with Dale to visit his cousin's house for some sort of werewolf family reunion. He wakes up in a strange bed that's on fire. Roger manages to get Dale to safety by throwing his unconscious body out a second story window. He's a little gentler with Dale's young cousin, Cora. "Where are the others?" he asks her when he drops her off next to Dale, who's starting to come around.

Cora tilts her head and wipes the tears from her face. The skin on one side of her body is charred, but quickly flaking off as she heals. "They're in the basement," she says. "They're trapped down there!"

Roger thanks the universe that he and Dale decided to turn in early, rather than join the others in the rec room for a movie. He charges back into the house and through the flames. The basement door is heavy and it's been locked shut with a chain and a heavy padlock. This isn't a simple house fire. This is murder.

Roger tries everything he can think of to get the door open, eventually running out back for an axe, which he uses to attack the door. Embers fall down all around him, and while they don't burn him, some of them are heavy enough to give him pause. It takes five agonizing minutes to get the door open. 

Roger starts pulling bodies out of the basement. He gets three of them out onto the lawn before a burning beam falls onto him, pinning him to the foyer floor. Another beam crashes down onto Roger's head and he passes out.

~*~

He wakes up in the woods with a man gently slapping his cheek. "Roger? Roge, wake up."

"Is that my name?" His voice feels heavy with soot. "Where am I?"

A small voice asks, "Dale? That's not Roger."

"It is," the man insists, putting a hand on the little girl's shoulder. Her face is dirty with soot and her hair is singed on one side. The skin on the left half of her face looks new and raw. "It's him, just with a different face. He can't die."

"I can't?" He doesn't remember anything. Dale helps him to his feet and urges him through the woods. "Where are you taking me? What is this?" He looks down and sees that he's not wearing anything. Dale has scraps of burned fabric hanging off his body. The girl is wearing soot-covered pajamas. He stops following them. "My name isn't Roger!"

"See, I told you," the girl says. Dale gives her a dirty look, or at least Roger thinks he does. It's hard to see too many details at night in the woods, even under what looks like a full moon. 

Dale freezes, covering the girl's mouth with one of his hands. He sniffs at the air like he can smell something. "Hunters," he says, letting the girl go and holding out his hand. "Roger, please. I need you to come with me. Please, baby."

"Baby?" he asks. He feels so confused. He doesn't remember being in a relationship with anyone, much less this man in ragged clothes who's urging him through the woods at night. 

Dale steps close and grabs the man's face, kissing him soundly. "Please tell me you remember that at least."

All the man can taste and smell is smoke. "I don't-"

Something whizzes through the air and hits a tree. The girl screams and then growls. The man can't tell what happened, but Dale rushes to her side, crying, "Cora!" 

Dale covers the girl with his body, picking her up into his arms and running away from whomever shot the arrow. The man hesitates before running as well. He decides he shouldn't follow Dale. If Dale is right, and he and the man he calls Roger are lovers, then he doesn't want to draw the enemy toward Dale and the little girl he's protecting. If Dale was lying, the man wants to lose him in the confusion.

The man runs and runs, his feet raw against the stones and sticks of the forest floor. He ends up following a road long enough that he can smell the ocean. He wonders if Dale and Cora ever made it to safety.

He goes closer to the beach and decides that he should look less like a crazy person before the sun comes up and someone sees him. Wading into the dark ocean water, the man decides his name is Kyle. The ocean is cold, but not so much that Kyle can't wash off quickly. It turns out the water is actually warmer than the air. Luckily, Kyle finds a blanket that someone abandoned on the beach. He wraps himself in it and walks on sore feet through the beach-side town until he finds a dumpster meant for donating clothes.

Kyle breaks the lock with a loose brick and pulls out bags of clothing until he finds pants, a shirt, a jacket, and even a pair of shoes. When he walks past one of the store fronts, he catches sight of himself. It's not a familiar face by any means. He looks much younger than he feels. He could practically be in high school.

Midday, he starts to get hungry. He goes into one of the shops that look locally-owned, Mama's Cafe. He asks after the owner, who turns out to be an older lady. He says, "Ma'am, my name is Kyle. I wonder if I could work for you a bit, so I can eat?"

"Honey," she says, frowning at him. "Ain't you got parents to feed you?"

Kyle shakes his head. He mixes a little bit of truth in with the lie. "They tried to hurt me. I ran."

The woman sighs. "You're lucky my last bus boy quit a week ago. You're on dishes. You do a good job, and I'll look out for you, alright?"

Kyle nods his head. "Alright."

Two months later, Kyle starts asking around for someone who can get him papers. He needs them if he's ever going to have a job where he isn't paid under the table. Ben, the guy who sells weed behind Mama's Cafe when Mama's not looking, points Kyle toward a guy in the next town over. It takes Kyle a few months of working all his waking hours and not eating much before he scrapes together the two grand.

He's given the name Jordan Parrish, a social security number to match, and a diploma from a high school in Arizona. He still works at the cafe while he's trying to figure out what he wants to do. Kyle finds Mama crying one day, before they open for the morning. "What's wrong?"

"My daughter's team went missing," she says. "In Afghanistan. She might be dead."

Kyle hears this ringing voice in his head telling him he can't die. He thinks maybe Dale was just exaggerating or perhaps doing some wishful thinking, but some weird things have happened in the past year. Kyle has accidentally put his hand on a hot griddle and come away without injury. He's dipped his fingers in the boiling oil used to cook french fries, and nothing has happened. He hasn't caught any colds.

Maybe Kyle is meant for a higher purpose. Maybe he's meant to help people. He gives Mama his two week's notice, telling her he's moving back east. After he's collected his last paycheck, he goes to the nearest army recruiting office. They mark him down as Jordan Parrish and start calling him Private. He doesn't tell anyone he still thinks of himself as Kyle.

They put him in charge of explosives. Kyle loves his job. He loves helping people and fighting off the bad guys and preventing his fellow soldiers from being blown up by the enemy's IEDs. He doesn't quite get to one of the bombs in time and the medic has no idea how Kyle avoided losing a limb. Kyle isn't sure why he still remembers his name, because he remembers by now that each time there's a fire or an explosion, he loses his face and his memories.

He finishes his four-year tour and ends up in Southern California. He follows a few of his buddies into Law Enforcement Training, and gets hired by San Diego County to be a sheriff's deputy. It's a good job, if not as exciting as being in Afghanistan. He dreams about former lives and former lovers. He keeps to himself, for the most part.

In late 2011, Kyle gets this urge to move on. There's this pulsing in his head, and it's coming from the North. He sees that the Beacon County department has several openings, so he applies, hoping the change of scenery will make him feel less anxious. When he gets there, the pounding in his head stops, but so much weird shit happens that he can't quite feel settled and calm.

He grows attached to Beacon Hills. He grows attached to his boss, Sheriff Stilinski. Kyle feels like he knows that name from somewhere, Stilinski, but he can't place from where. Something strange happens with Stilinski's son, and Kyle knows how to keep his mouth shut about it, when the Sheriff asks him to. Kyle feels this odd protective feeling for both the Stilinskis. When Lydia calls Kyle, telling him she has a bad feeling about the Sheriff, Kyle wastes no time getting to him and protecting him from the blast someone planted in his patrol car. 

Kyle goes on the warpath. He doesn't care that he's covered in soot from the burned-out car. He just sent the Sheriff to the hospital with hearing damage and a knock on the head. If not for Kyle, the Sheriff would be dead. Kyle knows he saw another deputy tampering with the Sheriff's car and he wants to feel Miller's blood on his hands.

The Sheriff's friend, Derek Hale, and that Federal Marshal, Agent Leonard, pull Kyle away from Miller before he can do more than throttle the other deputy a little. "It's not worth it," Derek says, handing Kyle a pair of handcuffs. "You lock him up, but," Derek turns to Miller and his eyes flash yellow, "you'd better know, you're on _our_ list."

Kyle doesn't even register the weirdness, since he's too mad to think. Still, he takes Derek's advice and locks Miller in a holding cell. He grabs a new uniform from his locker and changes into it, and is surprised when Derek and Agent Leonard, _Braeden_ , are waiting for him. "Your name is Jordan Parrish, isn't it?" Braeden asks.

Kyle nods. "Yeah, why?"

She holds up a piece of paper. On it is printed a list of names, with numbers after each of them. On the bottom line is his name, followed by a 6.

"What is this?" he asks. 

"A hit list," Derek tells him and Kyle notices that Derek's name is on the list as well. "Every supernatural being in Beacon County is on that list."

Kyle finds the conclusion they're leading him to. "Including me."

Braeden folds up the list and stores it in her back pocket. "That bomb wasn't meant for the Sheriff," she says, her hand resting on the holstered gun at her hip. "It was meant for you."

"Mind telling us what you are?" Derek folds his arms over his chest, the muscles bulging in a way that's both intimidating and appealing. 

"I--" Kyle crosses his arms as well. "I'm not sure. I doubt Miller does either, since he tried to blow me up. I've survived at least one explosion, and one fire, that I know of, so incendiary bomb is the worst possible weapon he could have picked."

"Phoenix," Braeden says, like that's the end of the discussion. She smiles at him, which makes Kyle's heart skip a beat. "You're going to come in handy."

When Kyle breaks away from Braeden's gaze to glance at Derek, he finds Derek staring at him with an open mouth. "You can't burn?" Derek asks.

Kyle shrugs and shakes his head. "I survived a fire eight years ago. It was near here, actually. I don't remember anything from before, but…"

Derek steps closer and stares into Kyle's eyes. He takes a deep breath through his nose. When he steps back, his eyes are wide. "Roger?"

The name brings Kyle back to that night in the woods, with the man and the little girl. "He called me that before we got separated. I couldn't remember him. I couldn't remember _me_."

"You know him?" Braeden asks, looking back and forth between Kyle and Derek.

Derek tells her, "When I was young, Roger was a friend of the family. My mother's cousin, Dale, always brought him…" Derek looks at Kyle again. "You have to be at least forty years old."

"I think I have a couple memories from the 1920s," Kyle tells him. "Is Dale still…"

"He's in South America," Derek says, and Kyle can't help but sigh in relief. He barely remembers the man, but what memories he does have are steeped in love. Derek gives Kyle a confused look.

"It took me a few years as Kyle to remember him," Kyle says. This time it's Braeden who gives him the look. "Jordan is the name on the papers I bought so I could enlist. Kyle is the name I first started going by when I woke up this time."

Braeden shrugs. "Alright." She looks back and forth between Kyle and Derek. "You know, I could make twenty-one mil if I took out the both of you right now."

Kyle's eyes go wide, but he looks over and Derek doesn't seem to concerned. Kyle asks her, "So, why don't you?"

Chuckling, Braeden points to Derek, "He's no fun, without his werewolf powers." She points to Kyle, "And I haven't figured out a way to make your death stick without things getting very, very messy." She smirks. "Besides, it's not like either of you is hard on the eyes."

The edges of Derek's lips twitch upward and Kyle finds himself grinning. "So, I've got Miller locked up. What do we do next?"

Derek looks to Braeden and Braeden says, "We go hunting."

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr post [here](http://pterawaters.tumblr.com/post/92960076469/pic-source-he-wakes-up-breathing-smoke-and), if you want to reblog. Thanks for reading!


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